A Vampire Named Gorgeous
by Daydream1
Summary: Thrown headlong into an unwanted adventure with Lancelot, one of the oldest vampires still alive, and his immortal companions, all Robin wants to do is get out alive. However, this is a battle, and she’s just another pawn in her ancestress' game.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur. Or at least not this version. I don't think the actual legend belongs to anyone in particular. Dibs on legend!Lancelot. :o)

**A Vampire Named Gorgeous**

Prologue

Do you ever have those days where you sit down on your bed with your chin against your kneecaps and mumble to yourself in a monotone voice, "God, could I _be_ any more boring?" Let me tell you from someone who has experienced real adventure firsthand, be thankful for the boring! Glorify the mundane, bask in the ordinary, and revel in a life sans excitement! Because when you finally get it, when that something extraordinary actually struts its nice, tight ass into your perfectly normal, peaceful life, you'll wish it had never found you. That's what happened to me just a few months ago, and damn, if I couldn't just go back to the ways things used to be…


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own King Arthur. Or at least not this version. I don't think the actual legend belongs to anyone in particular. (runs off to play with legend!Lancelot who is locked in her closet) :o)

_Chapter One: _

_The Nightly Capers of a Dean's List College Student_

"You're going whether you want to or not, Robin!" Liza said, her chin thrust into the air and her eyelids lowered over her dark brown eyes. This is the stubborn-as-hell look that she always gives me when she's determined that I'm going to do something that I don't want to do. Case in point, going to Michael Brabeck's cast party for the show she was just in.

"No, I'd just be crashing it," I replied, pulling my English textbook closer. The story of Okonkwo, his yams, and his insecurities was much more appealing to me than wading through a crowd of hammered college and grad school students on a full moon night. Everyone was crazier when it was a full moon; I think it's proven fact. "It's just going to be the cast…"

Liz tossed me a glare out of the corner of her eye. She couldn't glare properly because she was busy putting on eyeliner, but I still got the message. The cast-members always brought their girlfriends and boyfriends to these parties, and then word would get out that there was a party, and that's when about a hundred more people would show up at Michael's frat house with kegs of Sweet Tart juice, cards for a little Circle of Death action, and more Trojan condoms than anyone should be allowed to have in a lifetime. As a non-drinker, the most enjoyment I get out of these events is watching the drunks make absolute fools of them. Actually, it's terribly funny to watch the little twig-thin bimbos get slap-happy drunk after one cup of Sweet Tart juice…

I sighed as I closed the cover of the English anthology. If I didn't go, something interesting would happen (like it always did), and I'd be mad at myself for missing out. Not to mention that my roommate would insist for a week that I was sliding down the ladder of social standing into the class of the regrettably nerdy. So much for getting through _Things Fall Apart_ tonight.

With a victorious smirk riding on her lips, Liza went straight to my closet and began pulling things out while I started doing my makeup at our mirror. Liza has much better fashion sense than I do so I always let her pick out my clothes for me when we're going somewhere. Through the mirror's reflection, I saw a pair of jeans go sailing across the room and then a light blue tank-top. One sandal tumbling heel over toe…second sandal. I hate flip-flops. It's my personal opinion that Rainbows are just one more of America's commercially-driven fads that will go out of style in a couple years, and everyone will just have loads and loads of multiple-colored Rainbows laying around, taking up space in the bottoms of their closets. Sort of like Furbies or Beanie Babies but in a less demonically-cute way.

As I slipped into the clothes she had thrown onto my bed, Liza wandered around our dorm room, fiddling with her outfit and typing on AIM when the incoming-message bell dinged. She was trying not to look impatient, but I had been around her long enough to pick up on her subtle moods. I rushed through getting ready by neglecting to straighten my short, blackish-brown hair. Liza was already turning off the TV while I was looking for my earrings.

"Ready?" she asked, not really caring if I was or not. Sighing, I grabbed whatever jewelry my hand landed on and flung it into my purse. I would just hope that I had somehow gotten a pair of matching earrings.

I spent the drive over to the frat house trying not to accidentally give myself a second piercing as I put my earrings in. Like usual, Liza was driving like the speed demon she was, and I was stuck trying to hold on and not die as she whipped around the other cars on the road.

Somehow we made it to Michael's frat house without me puncturing myself or getting too much of a seatbelt burn. There was already a slew of cars and trucks parked in the driveway and up the street. The porch lights were on, and I could hear the pounding music as we parked in the neighbor's lawn. I always thought it was lucky that the house right besides the frat house was for sale and unoccupied; its front yard made a great parking lot. I climbed down from Liza's SUV and headed right behind my roommate for the house. About halfway there, she gave an excited squeal and ran for the porch, her high heels sinking into the grass. She had spotted her boyfriend, Jamie, standing on the porch, his hands stuck into the impossibly deep pockets of his emo pants. I sighed and followed after Liza while she hugged and kissed him. I don't know how she found his lips through those bangs that covered his face like a curtain. He nodded his head towards me as I walked up the front steps, and I waved back. He was one of Michael's frat brothers, and he had also been in the play with Liza. I didn't know him very well, but he seemed okay.

The three of us went inside. Immediately I wanted to backpedal and retreat to the porch. The house was full of people smashed up against one another, their hands roaming over each other's bodies as they did that air-humping thing they call dancing. The smell of beer and cigarette smoke was thick; I could feel it sinking into my clothes. Everything looked greasy as if it had been covered in a nasty coat of oil.

"I hate parties…" I mumbled grumpily. No one heard me over the music. Liza and Jamie had already disappeared into the crowd, probably heading towards the stairs that led to the upstairs bedrooms. I sighed and shoved my way through the press of bodies until I reached the couch. There was a couple making out on one end, but the other side was free. I sat down on the unoccupied end and crossed my legs. Mentally, I prepared myself for what was about to happen next.

From prior experience, I knew that at a party like this all the drunk guys eventually levitate towards the one sober girl in the room. It was like a radar that was implanted in them. I did my best to look inconspicuous by grabbing a magazine that was sitting on table end and reading it. Of course, it sort of put me at a disadvantage though because it just happened to be _Sports Illustrated_. Great.

"Hey, be-you-tiful…" a boy with a frat-boy hair cut and a polo shirt said as he flopped down on the couch next to me. Damn, it begins…

For the next two hours, I spent my time refusing drinks laced with date-rape drugs and offers for "hot, sweet sex." I sent horny boys off in the direction of horny girls, trying to do a favor for the both of them. Needless to say, by one o'clock I was ready to leave. Liza wasn't, or at least I could guess she wasn't. She still hadn't descended from upstairs. I stood up and made my way towards the door, squeezing through the groups of people who were somehow still dancing. It really wasn't all that far to the university, just a short walk past a few neighborhoods and apartment construction sites; I could make it there in about thirty minutes. Some of the boys walked there for classes every day. Or at least the days they felt like going to class.

I slipped out onto the porch, skipped down the steps, and started walking down the sidewalk. I stayed underneath the streetlamps as long as I could. Since the full moon was out, even the shady places in-between the circles of lamplight were okay. It was pretty quiet except for the muffled sounds of the nearby highway and the occasional snatches of songs or arguments from the neighborhood.

I guess that's why the panting sounded so loud when I first noticed it.

A least that's what I thought it was when I heard it. It was a sharp in-out breath with a wet infliction; it sounded just like a slobbery dog when it was hot outside except it was deeper and louder. It wasn't normal whatever it was.

I turned around on my heel, an involuntary cold shiver crawling up my arms. "Hello?" I asked, squinting as I tried to make out the shape of some guy stalking me in the shadows. The panting stopped but I still had goose bumps. "Um, yeah…"

Now freaked out, I picked up the pace and trotted down the sidewalk. I swear I could hear the soft thud of padded feet on the cement and the rustle of the bushes as something brushed up against them, but every time I turned there was nothing there. With one hand, I scrambled around in my purse and pulled out my cell phone. I flipped it open and closed in order to keep my hands occupied and calm my nerves. The flicker of blue light each time it opened was reassuring; at least I could call 911 if I needed to.

I was about ten minutes from the campus and walking past a construction site when I heard the panting again. It was closer this time and it sounded more like a dripping laugh than a pant. By now, I was convinced that some guys from the frat house had followed me back and were playing a prank on me. Angrily, I whipped around and raised my cell phone over my head, ready to chunk it at whoever was teasing me.

"Back off, you stupid jer…" The words died in my mouth as my gaze met the blood-shot gold stare of something much more intimidating than a frat boy. My cell phone fell from my hand and clattered on the cement as this big, hulking black thing pulled its lips back from its stained teeth in a sneer. I tried to tell myself that it was just some random stray dog, but my mind recoiled from that idea. It knew that logically a dog could not be the size of a Grizzly Bear. Its fur was matted in thick clumps that stood straight up from its skin, and it smelled like rotting hamburger meat. I lost feeling in my legs as it lifted one head-sized paw and took a step towards me.

I felt my lips move into the shape of an 'O' but my mouth was too dry to produce an effective noise. I managed this pathetic whimpering sound along with a repetitive, "Un, un, un…" The whatever-it-was seemed to become more excited now that it knew I was panicking. It took another step forward and started to growl deep back in its throat. My legs moved on their own, and I shuffled backwards. My upper body was frozen; my fingers were still curved as if I was holding my cell phone. I didn't know if I was breathing or not anymore as my back hit the lamppost.

The animal followed me, its stride twice the length of mine. Its sickly yellow eyes were trained on me, and I was having a lot of trouble breaking its stare as it came nearer. When I reached the pole, it was close enough to touch. It brought its nose up against my hand and snorted. Monster snot spread out across my skin. Opening its mouth, it licked my hand, its slimy tongue wrapping around my hand and then traveling up my arm, slicking my arm hair back with its hot spit. Pulling its head back, the thing seemed to snicker, ducking its head as it walked backwards.

I was going to die. I could see the animal's muscles bunching up as it prepared for the leap. It was going to land on me and bite me in half or rip my throat out or just maul me to death. I didn't really want to dwell on how much damage those foot-long claws could do to me. When it jumped into the air, I couldn't convince my body to move out of the way. It was like it had shut down in preparation for the worst. And I thought people were supposed to have a survival instinct.

Something flashed at the corner of my eye and suddenly the animal was falling, rolling off the sidewalk and onto the construction site. The black monster-thing roared and screamed as whatever attacked it tore into it, ripping huge tuffs of fur from its matted hide. I clapped my hands over my ears and cowered against the lamppost. Staring into the shadows, I could make out glimpses of human hands and arms and legs attached to the figure that had come to my rescue. There was a jacket laying on the ground beside me; whatever…whoever had saved me had taken the time to take of its jacket.

What the hell?

I turned my eyes back to the fight. The person jumped to his feet and swung a punch at the animal's face. It gave an eerily human yelp as it went fell on its side and skidded backwards. Dark reddish-brown blood dripped from its nose as it stood up, shaking the dust from its fur. Roaring like a freight train coming off the tracks, the beast-thing swayed its head from side to side and arched its back defensively. Again, the man moved faster than I could see and the animal was spinning over onto its side from the strength of the man's attack. How many hours would you have to spend working out to get muscular enough to sock a punch to a demon-dog's face and actually hurt it?

The animal decided that it had had enough. With its tail between its tree trunk legs, it scurried off, a whine like a baby's cry squeezing from its throat. I watched incredulously as the man who had saved me walked back my way, slapping his hands on his pants in a useless attempt to get the dust off. He moved with an incredible, unearthly amount of grace; it was as if water had been personified in a human being. As he stepped into the lamplight, I could finally see him clearly. He was incredibly pale but it wasn't as if he was sick or anything; he had obviously proved that by beating the crap out of the Hound of Baskerville. Dressed in a nice pair of designer jeans and a black fitted tee, he was quite the stylish figure. The sharp, black goatee and mustache looked quite natural on him, and his head full of thick black curls contrasted quite nicely with his pale complexion.

"Hey there," he said nonchalantly as he reached down to pick up the jacket. He slung it over his shoulder and smirked at me, "Werewolves…smell like shit, don't they?"

Oh, and did I mention he had fangs?

A/N: Tehe, I'm enjoying writing this story. It's fun! Oh, if anyone wants to RP (roleplay) about the knights, I'm totally up for it. Just PM/email me and we'll talk and I'll send you my AIM screenname. Play-by-emails chill too. :o) If you don't know what RP-ing is, PM and I'll corrupt you by introducing you to the addictive ways of an RP-er. Mwahahaha. It really does helping writing though, and it's highly entertaining. I'll try to update sometime next week. Well, if anyone likes it, that is.


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